


climb

by byakuyagami



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Self-Worth Issues, Unrealistic Expectations, self-deprecation, the music industry Fucking Sucks dude!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byakuyagami/pseuds/byakuyagami
Summary: the rise and fall of sayaka maizono, orchestrated by herself.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	climb

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! wrote this in an hour for my girlfriend because she loved the concept of it just as much as i did.  
> i may edit this slightly later, also apologies if i just broke your heart if you love sayaka like me. roflcopter I'll write something happier in the future i prommy
> 
> thank you for reading! <3

Sayaka was running out of time.

The flashing lights reflecting the crowd, the flushing of endorphins at the cries of euphoria from adoring fans, the relentless chanting of her name. Such an experience transcended a rush. Each produced song released to Japan rapidly stretched to the rest of the world, her legacy only proving to extend beyond her dreams ever since she graduated from Hope’s Peak. 

That was right: prior to Hope’s Peak, she was only the very beginning of a blossoming flower. Of which now, she had bloomed into an even more victorious young woman, who had managed to grasp her dreams by the throat, make them hers forever.

She deserved it, of course. The grappling between competition, other girls her age who desired the same success, their desperate pleading eyes and saccharine singing shrills, backgrounds of wealthier families. Sayaka built herself from the ground upwards, began gradually, the precious blues of her eyes expressing pure astonishment at the age of five, towards these women radiating glee upon their decorated stages, inspiring the dozens who created a chorus of their name. The nameless, faceless, young woman on the television seemed so pleased, so proud. The other girls besides her, behind her, reinforcing their masterpiece, her, at the centre of it all: they seemed similarly content. Sayaka remembered the crimson of roses, the blushing fuchsia of her frilly dress, the transparency of grateful tears accompanying a thankful voice towards the roaring crowd.

She desired that. She yearned for it so badly. 

Her fruitless life began to shift, take form, the bleak melancholic surroundings slipped away, filled with colour and light and hope. Hope for the future. Away from the absence of inspiration, or support. She could be that, for somebody else.

Sayaka had a goal, now. 

Sayaka would do anything at all to acquire it. She deserved it, after all.

Sometimes, she would still have visions to the rivers streaming down the young girl’s faces who didn’t quite make it as far as she did. The haunting gloom that plagued their movements, their voice, the empty encouragements and apologies from those who pushed forwards and didn’t look back. 

She almost did, once. 

When a girl with pale twin-tails stared endlessly at her when Sayaka rose above her in that singing competition at age ten, the way she didn’t say anything at. Simply stared. Sayaka couldn’t remember if she was defeated, depressed, resentful. She didn’t want to know. Other young women certainly stared at her that way. The remnant memories of those that were simply pleased for her continued triumphs passing her mind fleetingly. They probably weren’t aiming for as far as she was, anyway. They didn’t understand the wear and tear. The persistent checking of her own appearance, the studying of others, to know exactly where she would go next to achieve the eyes of the music industry. 

Sayaka was so close, she could taste it. She simply had to push herself more, work more jobs on weekends for more income to further her vocal cords in singing lessons, form more connections. Be better, do better, be more. Prove them wrong.

In all her exhaustion, at age thirteen, Sayaka didn’t pay much attention to the television anymore. She had little time to consume other forms of media or to simply sit back and relax. If she gave herself a minute to pause, however, she may have noticed that anonymous idol from her childhood years had disappeared into thin air. Gone. Replaced with another girl, brighter, smaller, the pinnacle of sweetness, like a slice of cake on a summer day. Golden hair, bright eyes, like a goddess had manifested in her person. 

Sayaka would sooner come to meet this gir-- women, now- at age nineteen. She had graduated from Hope’s Peak, frolicking socially and maintaining contacts of those she had special connections with; Kyoko, Makoto, Hina-chan, Togami-kun. They made her… feel happier than she had in a long time. They gave her a sense of fulfilment, other than working towards greater success than she had already achieved. She was a pop-star, that was what she wanted. She had adoring eyes, fan pages, letters, emails, signatures signed and popularity and-- it wasn’t enough.

Hope’s Peak was nice. It was over, now.

For a split second in Hope’s Peak, she wondered if she wanted to continue her career of success. If she wanted to go even further. Sayaka somewhat startled herself with the thought- of course, she did. What else would she do? What else could she do?

What else was there of Sayaka Maizono, other than her title, her fame which just wasn’t enough. Was she even reaching people, or was she simply a singer. She wanted to be more like the girl on stage when she was five. She couldn’t remember what she was like. 

Something wasn’t right.

Golden hair and bright eyes passed her by when she was nineteen years old. Sayaka was too fascinated with the intricacies of her pastel blue dress to notice the eye-bags that had sunken into this girls skin, the lifelessness in her movements. The way she walked away, providing Sayaka with a pitiful glance that went unnoticed, and then she was gone. 

It was peculiar. Sayaka was so efficient in reading people, and yet, her peers, her co-workers. They all looked the same, their faces became a muddled blur, indecipherable.

Sayaka was right to continue forward. She stood upon the stage of her idol at age five, she beamed towards the crowd, she produced more songs, more letters, more interviews, more VIP visits to unmentionable events, more, more, more. Was she enough for herself, or just not enough for other people?

Sayaka noticed she was running out of time, two years, nearly three- or, was it four, or five- passed. Too slow, too quickly, not enough, way too much. Crowds began to whittle, their cheers becoming smaller with lesser people, top-charts songs began to decrease. Tours, interviews, travelling, began to fade away. Concerts began to become less common in taking up her bountiful time. 

As Sayaka glided upon the stage for what could perhaps be one last concert of her career, tears of appreciation began to trickle down her pale cheeks, her few friends-- some stayed, some didn’t-- behind her with a tiny appreciative smile towards a crowd that cried her name. Perhaps they knew it would be the last time, too. She noted once more that the crowd seemed smaller than television made it out to be, the lights dimmer, more realistic. 

Five-year-old Sayaka couldn’t have realised back then as her tears choked her throat, practically grabbing it, but she did now. 

Sayaka concluded that if she had at least inspired one, one singular person. One child to be what they wish to be, her fall from grace would be worth it.

A young girl with gapped teeth, wavy auburn hair, and dark eyes stared at her from the front of the crowd with inspiration lifting her features, making her glow: Sayaka was hit with a daunting realisation as her tears developed into ugly weeps.

This was what she wanted, right?


End file.
